


Dress Blues

by DragonWyrd316



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWyrd316/pseuds/DragonWyrd316
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard finds herself losing her family on Mindoir but is immediately embraced by another as Anderson takes over as a father figure.  Hackett stays in close contact, having found himself intrigued by the young woman he and Anderson found on the colony and interested in how she 'grows up'.</p><p>Rated explicit due to content in later chapters, be it due to sexual content, graphic gore, etc.</p><p>Story will cover the events in Shepard's life from Mindoir through ME3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mindoir

She shivered.  Goosebumps raced across her skin as if trying to keep pace with her feet as she ran through the tall grass, the moonless night hiding her escape.  Chantalle wasn’t sure if it was the chill wind on her bare arms, or the screams of the dying coming from the housing behind her, but it cut right through her.  Slender fingers gripped hard on the old M-7 Lancer her father had shoved into her hands before ordering her to run.

“God, please be with me, keep me safe.” Her prayer came out as a whispered plea.  She already knew it was too late for her parents - her mother’s blood stained her skin courtesy of the batarian who had forced his way into their home.

“Planning on going somewhere, cattle?”

Chantalle stopped short, her breath hitching when the outline of her four-eyed stalker came into view.  Mouth opening on a wordless cry, her fingers tightened on the trigger of the assault rifle, adding the blood of the batarian in front of her to what already decorated her tank and sweats.

“I… am _not_ cattle you sonuvabitch!”  Her voice was hoarse as the words finally slipped past the knot in her throat.  Tears sprung to her eyes as the intense, white-hot heat of the overloaded rifle seared into her senses.  “No, no, no, no, no.  Can’t let go.  Need to make sure this bastard can’t hurt anyone ever again.  Dad would kill me if he heard me use the word bastard.  But dad’s not here anymore, is he?  Oh god, oh god, oh god.”  She was rambling but she couldn’t seem to stop the flow of words anymore than she could stop pulling the trigger of the rifle that no longer fired.

“Shh, child, he’s dead.  He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Chantalle shrieked and took a couple of steps back, raising the rifle in the direction of the voice.  Before she could make out anything more than the human eyes of the man who approached her, another set of hands removed the rifle from her grip.  A muttered curse soon followed, along with the thud of the rifle hitting the dirt.  Gentle fingers took a hold of her hands, turning them until her palms were facing upward.

“Shit,” the second man sighed, his gaze raising to lock onto Chantalle’s.  “Anderson, check your pack for some bandages.  From what I can see she has at least second degree burns on her hands and I don’t want to take the chance of them getting worse until we can get her some medical assistance.”

“Understood, Captain.”

“Who… who are you?” Chantalle asked, looking between the two men.  Now that she was no longer alone and didn’t have to face the four-eyed monsters by herself, the shakes began to set in, along with the pain from where the rifle had burned her palms.

“I’m Captain Hackett, and the man with the bandages is Lieutenant Commander Anderson.  We’re with the Alliance Navy.  What is your name?”

“My name… my name is Chantalle…”  Her head began to swim and she felt nauseatingly lightheaded.  Blinking rapidly, she tried to focus on getting the words out but instead felt her knees go weak moments before hitting the dirt.

“Damnit, she’s going into shock.  We need to double-time it back to the shuttle and hope we make it to the _SSV Tsingtao_ before she gets any worse.”

Anderson nodded at Hackett, the two men taking just enough time out for Chantalle’s hands to be wrapped.  Scooping the young woman into his arms, Hackett retraced his and Anderson’s steps back toward their shuttle.  Once she was secured, Anderson rapped his fist against the door to the cockpit, signaling to the pilot that they were ready for lift-off.

“What are we going to do with her, sir?”

Hackett glanced briefly at his XO then resumed his study of the young woman in front of him.  The lack of any real light down on Mindoir had hidden the myriad of scratches on Chantalle’s bare arms, probably from running through the grass the farmers planted on the sallow fields to regenerate the nutrient content in the soil.  Her honey brown hair hung in a messy ponytail halfway down her back.

“Grab a blanket from one of the overhead cargo bins.  We need to get her warmed up,” he ordered, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as he tried to come up with an answer to Anderson’s question.

Anderson did as he was told, wrapping the blanket around the shivering young woman, making sure it was tucked securely around her.  While leaning toward her, the glint of tags around her neck caught his attention and he pulled them closer to his face to get a better look.  The name that stared back at him was almost as familiar as his own - it belonged to one of his friends, a former squad mate of his during the First Contact War.

“Oh my god, it’s Lacey, Gabriel Shepard’s daughter.”

“Lacey?  She said her name was Chantalle.”

“Gabriel liked to call her his little Chantilly Lace since that’s where he and Poppy were living in France when she was born, remember?”

“Damnit,” Hackett sighed.

“I’m going to foster her if she’s agreeable,” Anderson murmured.

“What about your career?”

“If I remember correctly, she should be around 16 or 17 now, so it’s not as if it’ll take me away from the Alliance for too long.  Besides, with what she’s been through she deserves something stable, someone who’ll actually give a damn, and this is a way I can repay Gabe for pulling my ass out of the fire during a few heated battles.”

“So you’re the one whose mom’s picture scared the turians shitless to the point of starting the war?”

Anderson stumbled back from where he was crouched and found himself falling butt first onto the shuttle floor.  He stared into the green eyes of the young woman in front of him, his body vibrating with laughter.  Hackett’s lips quirked into a grin while he watched the two of them. 

“Docking with the _SSV Tsingtao_ , Captain.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Hackett replied, the momentary lightheartedness interrupted by the pilot’s announcement.  “Let’s get you checked out, Shepard.  Your hands need care.”

After the blanket was wrapped more securely around her, Chantalle found herself carried by Anderson as the trio made their way toward the Med Bay.  Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek on his shoulder and let herself give in to exhaustion.

~~*~~

Two years later…

_From: C. Shepard_

_To: D. Anderson, S. Hackett_

_Subj: My 18 th Birthday_

_The two of you keep asking me what I want for my birthday.  I finally have an answer for you.  I want both of you there for me when I go to board the shuttle for Arcturus to begin my officer’s training.  Those letters of recommendation I asked for weren’t for universities as I led you to believe - I wanted to surprise you if I was accepted into the Alliance’s officer school.  I just got the letter today and my classes start in one month.  My father was proud of his service in the Alliance and I want to follow in his footsteps as well as in both of yours.  What do you say?_

_Chantalle_

_\----------_

_From: D. Anderson_

_To: C. Shepard, S. Hackett_

_Subj: Re: My 18 th Birthday_

_Congratulations!  I know you’ll do your father and the Alliance proud.  Just let me know when.  I’ll take you out for dinner the night before.  You deserve at least one good meal before you’re stuck eating the cafeteria food on Arcturus._

_David_

_\----------_

_From: S. Hackett_

_To: C. Shepard, D. Anderson_

_Subj: Re: My 18 th Birthday_

_Of course I’ll be there.  Just give me the time and date._

_And David, the food on the station has gotten much better.  At least she’s not stuck eating MRE’s.  Some of the shit in the cafeteria is actually palatable now.  Besides, we do have a few nice restaurants on the station or has that last date you had with Kahlee already slipped your mind?  
_

_Steven_

_\----------  
_

_From: D. Anderson  
_

_To: S. Hackett, C. Shepard  
_

_Subj: Cafeteria Food  
_

_Shut it, old man.  
_

___________  
_

_From: S. Hackett  
_

_To: D. Anderson, C. Shepard  
_

_Subj: Re: Cafeteria Food  
_

_Watch who you're calling old.  You're not much younger than I am.  
_

_\----------  
_

_From: C. Shepard  
_

_To: D. Anderson, S. Hackett  
_

_Subj: Bickering  
_

_I swear the two of you sound like old nags going at each other.  And you like to say my gender is bad.  Men, are worse, I swear...  
_

_\----------  
_

_  
_Chantalle stifled a laugh when Anderson stormed into her room moments later.

"Did you just call me a nag?"

"If it looks like one and brays like one..."

Anderson snorted then grinned over at her.

"Off to bed now, young lady.  You have preparations to make for your trip in a month, don't you?  I think a nice and early start in the morning might be a good idea... say 0400?"

His response came in the form of a pillow flying across the room and smacking him in the face.  Turning on his heel, he left the room with a laugh.  "Goodnight, Lacey!"

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'emails' sent between Shepard, Hackett, and Anderson was an idea that I took from some of the Broker files after playing Lair of the Shadow Broker. Honestly, after all this time, all the playthroughs I've done and all of the chapters I've written for another ME fic of mine, I'm surprised the idea didn't come to me sooner. Then again, it really wouldn't have fit in my Lost & Found fic, now that I think about it.


	2. Akuze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One tragedy is enough, but now Shepard faces her second. Will she make it out alive, let alone mentally sound?

_April 11, 2177_

Chantalle looked around the bare bones of the settlement her and the other 49 members of the ground team had been assigned to check out.  Granted, it was still in the early stages of its development, but there was something about Akuze that reminded her of Mindoir.  What, she couldn’t put her finger on, though perhaps it just had to do with the fact that it was an outlying colony, away from the prying eyes of the Alliance and Earth.  The group had split up into five teams of ten, each with their own search grid to see if any clues had been left behind as to the sudden disappearance of the colonists.  Her team was the furthest out, positioned approximately 15 klicks away from the spaceport.

“So Shepard, who’d you piss off to spend your birthday poking around down here with the rest of us?”

Chantalle looked over her shoulder and grinned at her fellow marine.  Seeing him ready his sleeping bag reminded her that it was time to bunk down for the night.  “Oh I asked the birthday gods to let me spend the day staring at your ugly mug.  Surprisingly enough my wish was granted.”

“Why would you wish for that?” a female voice piped up in response.

“Martinez, you have to admit that even though Benson has a face only a mother could love, he was gifted with a fine ass.”

Martinez snorted out a laugh and shook her head.  “True enough, though I’m sure that’s the only _fine_ part of his anatomy.”

The man in question let out an indignant howl.  “I’ll let you know that my girlfriend has stated that my assets are just fine in other areas, thank you very much!”

“Your hand doesn’t count, Benson!” Toombs snickered as he approached the small group.

“Y’all are so mean.”  Benson pouted, though by the quiver of his lips the others could tell he was trying to hold back his laughter.

“Yet you love us anyway,” Chantalle retorted, earning a poke in the ribs by Toombs.

“Mayday!  May … found possible reason … disappearance … overrun …”

“Shit, is there any way to clear up the static?” Toombs growled, looking down at his radio.

“This is Alpha squad!  What’s your location?  What have you found?” Shepard barked through her comm. unit.

“Stay away … surrounded … maws!”  The transmission ended on a squawk, though not before Shepard and her team heard the screams of their fellow marines.

“Damnit!” Chantalle hissed.  “Anyone know which team that was?”

“Sounded like Masterson from Charlie squad,” Martinez replied, her voice shaking a bit.  “What did he mean by maws?”

“Thresher maws,” Chantalle answered.  “My roommate on Arcturus had a brother who came in contact with one during a mission.  Nasty fuckers that crawl around below ground and spit acid, from what he said.”  Looking around at her team, she hefted up her pack then turned toward the darkened landscape in front of her.  “Benson, I want you to try hailing the other teams and find out their status.  If there are maws out there, we need to get to high ground - the rockier the better.  This loose shit beneath our feet makes us sitting ducks.”

“There’s a solid rock wall about a klick north of us,” Toombs pointed out.  “Noticed that it served as the northern border to the colony as we were driving out here.”

“Yeah, I remember seeing it too, and it was pretty rocky along the top ledge which means we’ll need to be extra careful while making our way across it,” Shepard added.

“Why not just hop in the Mako and get the hell out of here?” Benson asked.

“Think about what Shepard’s saying,” Martinez sighed. “If we use the Mako, these things might be drawn to us by the vibration of the vehicle.”

“Exactly,” Chantalle agreed.  “Any luck raising any of the other teams on the comm.?”

“Zero for Echo squad.  Still trying to reach Bravo and Delta.”

“Keep on it.  Now let’s get moving!”

~~*~~

The first four were lost within a half hour of them leaving camp.  A thresher maw had exploded from the ground at the rear, grabbing them up, then disappearing beneath the soil.  Martinez had died during the second attack, having received the brunt of the acid spit.  The two alongside her hadn’t fared any better, passing within moments of Martinez.  She lost Toombs three hours later when a rage maddened thresher kept headbutting the stone face of the wall they were climbing across, causing him to lose his footing when part of it collapsed.

“Benson, any luck with…”  Her question was cut off by the sound of a scream over the comm.  “Shit, that was the last team, wasn’t it?”

“Yes ma’am.”  The tone of his voice had her looking back at him.  It wasn’t the sadness she heard there that worried her - it was the sound of defeat.

“I need you to keep your head in the game, Benson.  I know it’s hard watching our people die to these damned monsters, but we need to survive and do our duty to our squad.  We need to honor their memory by making it back alive and reporting to the brass what happened here so no one else goes through what we just did, or what those colonists did.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Besides, we’re not that far.  The LZ is on the other side of that ledge.”

“Thank god.” Benson went quiet for a moment.  “Uh, LT?”

“What is it?”

Her question was answered by a hard body pinning her down to the ground, Benson’s screams high pitched and wild in her ear.  It wasn’t until she felt the burns searing into the back of her neck and left side, along with drops of a wet substance that she didn’t want to think about, that the realization hit her.  Benson had put himself between her and the thresher maw, giving his life to save hers.  Her eyes watered from the pain of where the acid ate into her armor, reaching the skin beneath.  Gritting her teeth, every cell in her body seeming to scream in agony, Chantalle staggered back up onto her feet.

“You will not be forgotten, nor will any of the others.”

Pushing past the crippling sensations, forcing herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, Chantalle made it to the landing zone an hour later.  As quick as she could, she hobbled into the communications bunker and sent out an emergency mayday on Alliance frequencies.

“Where are my white knights when I need them?” Chantalle whimpered as her world spun and faded to black.

~~*~~

“Commander Anderson, there’s something you need to hear.”  A young woman jogged up to his table in the mess, just as he had sat down to eat.

“What is it, Ensign?”

“Emergency transmission from Akuze, sir.”  Anderson stilled.  Shepard had been assigned to Akuze.

“Patch it through to my personal terminal,” he ordered, leaving his tray behind as he rushed towards his office.  Stepping inside, he locked the door, then opened the comm. channel.

“Mayday, mayday, this is Lieutenant Shepard.  Myself and a ground unit of 50 marines were assigned to Akuze to determine the reason behind the colonists disappearance.  It was thresher maws.  As of right now, I am the only known survivor.  Requesting a pick-up and medical assistance for acid burns.  You will find me inside the communications bunker at the edge of the LZ.  Again, beware of thresher maws.  They took out my whole team.  Shepard out.”

First Mindoir, then Akuze.  Poor child.  Anderson sighed, stepping out of his room to signal the Ensign who had alerted him to the transmission.

“Are there any ships near Akuze who can do a pick-up?”

“No sir.  We’re the closest at twelve hours out.”

“Damnit.  Tell the pilot to set a course for Akuze and do what he can to shave that time down!”

“Aye aye, sir.”

\----------

_From: D. Anderson_

_To: S. Hackett_

_Subj: Lacey_

_Just received a distress call from Akuze.  Thresher maws took out the colony.  They also took out her entire squad.  The Tokyo is about a half a day from reaching her, less if the pilot can step on it without killing the ship’s drive core.  Sounds like she’s also suffering from maw acid burns.  Will give more details once I’ve got her on board._

_\----------_

_From: S. Hackett_

_To: D. Anderson_

_Subj: Re: Lacey_

_Arcturus might have some shit cafeteria food but the medical facilities here are second to none in my books.  If she’s stable enough, you’d damned well better bring her back here where we can keep a close eye on her during her recovery._

_\----------_

_From: D. Anderson_

_To: S. Hackett_

_Subj: Re: re: Lacey_

_Understood._

_\----------_

_From: D. Anderson_

_To: S. Hackett_

_Subj: Akuze_

_The doc has put her into a medically induced coma.  Her armor was practically melted off.  The back of her neck and the back left side of her entire body got hit.  From what else we peeled off her armor, looks as if someone else knocked her down to take the brunt of the attack.  She’s stable for now so we’re headed toward Arcturus.  Will keep you posted if anything changes._

_\----------_

Hackett sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face.  There weren’t many times where he’d felt powerless in his life, but Mindoir and this situation with Chantalle after Akuze were two of them.

“You’d better pull through this, _mija_.  None of us could handle losing you.  _I’m_ not ready to lose you yet…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't know (and I had to do research on this myself) a klick is 1 kilometer, or .62 miles. 10 clicks = 6.2 miles so 15 puts it at just under 10 miles.
> 
> P.S. I don't currently have a beta. Anyone interested? Warning, I don't update regularly and there might be months where I don't write anything. My writing is very sporadic. (Just take a look at the last publication date for Lost & Found if you don't believe me - which I know I need to update as well.)


	3. Awake Yet Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chantalle comes to after her ordeal on Akuze. What will she find?

_12 hours after distress signal sent out…_

Everything felt so heavy.  Her muscles reacted with the sluggishness of a hiker slogging through waist high snow drifts.  Chantalle tried to lift her head, though her body didn’t want to comply with what her brain was telling it to do.  She couldn’t even get her eyes to open.  Letting out a soft grunt of frustration, she gave up after numerous attempts wielded no change.

“Shh, Lacey, just rest,” she heard someone say.  Even her hearing was distorted.  She couldn’t tell if it was Anderson or Hackett.  At least she knew one thing - one of her saviors, one of her white knights, was at her side.  Moments later she felt a pinprick in her neck and her world went back to black.

 

* * *

 

_Two weeks later…_

“Oh god,” Chantalle groaned, shoving her face into the pillow beneath her cheek, fingers flexing on the mattress beneath her.  Her entire left side from the neck down felt like it was on fire, even through whatever drugs she’d been given to leave her muzzy headed.  To add to the discomfort was the feeling of cool air wafting over her ass cheeks, leading her to the realization that the hospital she was in still believed in backless gowns.

“Go grab the doctor.  Shepard’s starting to wake up.”

Hackett.  Thank god one of her men was by her side, though she could feel her cheeks redden at the thought of him, hell any visitor walking through those doors, being gifted by sight of her ass the moment they came into her room.

“Lacey, glad to see you back among us,” he murmured, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear.  “You gave us quite a scare, _mija_.”

Chantalle cracked her eyes open , staring at the blurry outline of the Rear Admiral.  Whatever she’d been shot up with wouldn’t allow her eyes to focus, so she was forced to close her eyes again, lest she end up giving herself a headache.

“How long have I been out?” she croaked.

“Two weeks,” Hackett answered.   “Lacey?”

“Did anyone try to search for signs of possible survivors?”

“No.  You were in bad shape when the _Tokyo_ reached you.  Between what happened to you and the ground team, plus what we uncovered during our research into thresher maws…”  His soft sigh reached her ears, making her clench her eyes tight.  With as much strength as she could muster, Chantalle slammed her right fist into the mattress.  While she knew in the back of her head that no one else had made it out alive, the hope she had clung to of not being the only one to get out of there just disappeared.

“Shepard?”  The voice that reached her ears sounded a bit cool and clinical.  Doctor, she supposed.

“Yes?”

“Name, rank, and identifier please,” the clipped voice demanded.

“Rear Admiral?” Chantalle sighed.

“He cannot answer for you.  I need to ascertain your basic mental functionality, such as memory.  Starting off simple, so to speak.”

“And _I_ cannot focus well enough to see you clearly and verify that you are entitled to such information.”

“I can vouch for him,” Anderson stated, entering the room.

“Shepard, Chantalle Belle, Lieutenant, MNDR11454,” she answered.  “Would it be too much to ask, though, that my ass at least be covered if I’m going to be conscious while having visitors?  If people are going to stare at it, I’d rather not be awake.  Cuts down on the mortification factor.”

“My apologies but with the healing skin grafts…” the doctor began.

“I believe there is something we can do to cut down on her lack of privacy,” Hackett stated, his tone ringing with authority.  “It is only her left side that is affected.  While, in some spots, it might reach near the spine or the entirety of the back of her leg, you could at least cover up her right side to the point of affording her _some_ of her dignity, yes?”

“Yes, sir.  Let me find an aid to grab a sheet for Lieutenant Shepard,” the man replied, his voice losing all of its starch, followed by the sound of his footsteps exiting the room.

“How bad?” Chantalle asked.

“You were put into a coma for a couple of weeks while the medical staff worked on stabilizing you,” Anderson’s voice shook as he answered.  “Your armor was melted into your skin.  The doctors had to surgically remove all of the dead tissue and then begin the process of replacing it with new.  The second graft surgery was completed two days ago.”

Hot tears leaked from her eyes, soaking the pillow beneath.  She knew it was petty, what with the lives of her friends and fellow squad mates lost to her on Akuze, but all she could think of was who would want her now?  True, she had planned on being a lifer in the Alliance, but there were some who, through minor miracles, were able to make relationships work and she had hoped to be among them.

“How many more will I need and… and… damnit I don’t consider myself vain but any idea of how it’ll look when it’s all done?  More importantly, will it affect my ability to do my job?”  Her breath hitched at the end.  It wasn’t until she asked the question that she realized that the damage done to her body might result in an early discharge for medical reasons.  The thought of no longer being in the Alliance, or stuck to a desk job, caused panic to curl through her system.

“If you follow your physical therapy to the letter, the scars shouldn’t hamper you in the least,” the doctor replied, returning with a lightweight blanket.  The hands that tucked it around the uninjured parts of her body belonged to someone else - Anderson if she’d had to guess.  The way it was done was highly reminiscent of how he’d secured her the night of the Mindoir raid.  “As far as how many skin graft surgeries, we’re going to see how things look after this one is fully healed.  Your body is accepting the new skin beautifully and you’re healing quite rapidly as well, so this might be the last one you need.   As far as how it’ll look?  No matter how much science has improved over the last couple hundred years, while just as durable as normal skin, we cannot give it the same look and texture to match.  If anything they might fade a bit over the years but…” the man sighed.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Chantalle choked out.  “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like some time to myself.”

“Lacey…” both Hackett and Anderson said in unison.

“Just… please…”

 

* * *

 

_One month later…_

Her body’s ability to heal through such a trauma was a pleasant surprise to the doctors.  It pleased her to no end as well because it meant getting out of the hospital that much quicker.  Chantalle had gone above and beyond during physical therapy, constantly pushing herself to take that extra step or reach that extra foot to make sure her body could handle the rigors of her job.

Opening up her omni-tool - she’d been given a new one a few days ago once the medical staff was assured that its added weight wouldn’t damage some of the still fragile tissue - she decided to ping Anderson and Hackett, see if either of them were available for a chat.

_Chat request sent._

_S.H. Is everything alright?_

_D.A. Lacey?_

_C.S. They’re going to let me leave in a week if I have somewhere to go.  You have no idea how much I can’t wait to get out of here._

_D.A. Damnit, I let the lease on the Arcturus apartment lapse.  Nobody had used it in so long…_

_S.H. Don’t worry about it.  I’ll have my secretary do some research into furnished apartments, see what we can come up with._

_C.S. Oh good.  Didn’t really feel like camping on your couch, Steven.  While your place is gorgeous, it’s definitely a bachelor pad._

_D.A. Not only that but the possible political fallout from those with their minds in the gutter at the implications of you staying with him..._

_S.H.  I **am**_ _here, you know.  No need to talk about me as if I weren’t, though I do agree with you both.  Let me get on it and see what I can find.  Hackett out._

_User has disconnected from chat._

_C.S.  Well that went well.  I just want out of here.  It’s too sterile and cold._

_D.A.  You know Steven.  He’ll pull whatever strings he can to get you what you need, as will I. Give me a few days to try and come up with something.  Love ya, kiddo._

_C.S.  Thanks, David.  Love ya too._

_User has disconnected from chat._

Shutting down her tool, Chantalle yawned and flopped back on the bed.  She was still achy, and since medical science had proven eons ago that rest sped up the healing process, she was expecting another dose soon of some sort of pain blocker that would allow her to sleep.  With her impending release, the doctors had discussed with her their plans to switch to a lighter pain med to help wean her off the blockers completely.  She had wholeheartedly agreed.  As if thinking about it had brought the med aid to life, she heard the telltale squeaking of the med cart outside her room.

“Ready for that pain blocker?” the young woman asked.

“More than you could ever know,” Shepard grinned in response.

 

* * *

 

_The batarians were huddled up along the far rock wall, discussing their next plan of attack, she guessed.  Some of the squad had been chipped and tossed into cages.  Others had been separated from the main group, and while also caged, it was apparent that they were to be used for something other than slave labor.  What, Chantalle couldn’t figure out, but it seemed to make the batarians nervous.  None of the freaks would get close to the second set of cages and that worried her enough that she began chewing on her lower lip while deep in thought._

_With both groups so widely separated, she couldn’t figure out how to secure the release of her people without getting herself killed in the process.  And if she died, then the rescue operation tanked, and she firmly subscribed to the ‘no one left behind’ motto._

_“Get the slaves onto the ship now!”  One of the batarians barked out to his fellow slavers.  “Shove the other cages further into the center, away from us, to give us a chance to get out of here with the cattle intact.”_

_What the hell?  Chantalle’s mossy green eyes narrowed, her fingers reaching for the pistol holstered at her hip.  Within moments, everything became crystal clear as the rumbling from beneath her feet nearly knocked her over the rock wall and into the slavers.  They were using the marines they felt they had no use for as bait for the thresher maws so they wouldn’t become fodder as well._

_Just as she was about to raise her gun to shoot, the overload program already ticking down on her tool to fry the lock on the cage nearest her, a hand grabbed her bicep and turned her toward him._

_“Fucking cattle, always thinking they can escape,” the batarian in front of her drawled.  She swung, fist hitting the thing in the face with a satisfying crunch.  Catching movement in her peripheral vision, Chantalle pulled at the dark energy within her and let loose with a heavy throw, tossing her second would-be oppressor over the cliff…_

“Lieutenant Shepard!  You need to stop!” a voice screeched out at her.

How did they know her name?  The batarians didn’t care what they were called - they just assigned numbers before chipping their victims and shoving them into cages.

“Shit, we need to get her sedated or she’ll tear the room apart!  She’s already overloaded the equipment!”

Something pinched her neck and a coolness entered her bloodstream, incapacitating her.  Fuck, after surviving Mindoir, after all her Alliance training, the batarians still managed to get her.

 

* * *

 

_From:  D. Anderson_

_To:  S. Hackett_

_Subj:  Shepard_

_Any idea what happened in the hospital and where Lacey is being shipped off to?  Now that she’s a legal adult, even though I’m listed on her file as her next of kin, the damned place won’t give me a straight answer._

_\----------_

_From:  S. Hackett_

_To:  D. Anderson_

_Subj: Re: Shepard_

_I have no idea where they’re sending her outside of “off the station.”  Supposedly she fried every machine in her room, broke a nurse’s nose, and threw one of the doctors into the wall when her vital signs started bouncing off the charts.  They sedated her but that’s as much information as I was able to get.  If I learn anything more, I’ll let you know._

_\----------_

_From:  D. Anderson_

_To:  S. Hackett_

_Subj: Re: Re: Shepard_

_That doesn’t sound like our Lacey.  Will keep comms open in case you learn more._


	4. Twisted Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chantalle meets two people affected by the death of her squad on Akuze.

“Recorder on.  Today is the 17th of June, 2177.  I currently have Lieutenant Chantalle Shepard of the Alliance Navy, sentinel classification, and survivor of the batarian raid on Mindoir in the room for testing.”

The voice humming through her head sounded as if it were coming through a wind tunnel before it reached her ears.  Opening her eyes a crack, all she could see was white.  Ceiling, walls, floor, the few cabinets that graced the smallish room… all white.  Her gown and the sheets on the bed, even the clothing of the man muttering a few steps away, matched the color scheme.  Blinking a few times, her vision cleared a bit; the blurriness worse than when she’d been under the effects of the pain medication she’d been given after the thresher maw attack.

Wetness was the next sensation to come to her.  Her physical sensory ability had finally come online, and for some reason drool was pooling out of the left corner of her mouth and allowed to slide and drip into an uncomfortable puddle on her clavicle.  It was almost like Chinese water torture.  When she tried to lift a hand to clean herself off, Chantalle realized she’d been restrained.  Doing a bit of testing, she confirmed that both wrists and ankles had been strapped to the bed she was lying on.  What the hell was going on?  And why did her head feel like it was stuffed with cotton?

“Oh look, the lovely woman has decided to grace us with a few moments of consciousness,” the voice added on to its earlier comment, its owner coming closer to her bed.  “Lieutenant Shepard, how wonderful to see you.”

Benson.  The name tag on the man’s lab coat had the name Benson.  She tried squinting harder to make out the facility name underneath, but all she succeeded in doing was giving herself the beginnings of a headache, if the gentle throbbing at her temples was any indication.  Moving her gaze upward, she studied what she could of the man and was able to pick out similar features between him and the marine she had served with on Akuze.

“Now, before you go back to sleep, m’dear, may I say how happy I am to have you under my care?  Here, at my fingertips, is one of the lone survivors of Mindoir, wreaking havoc upon the galaxy without a batarian chip in her head while her family lay molding on the ground back at her old homestead.”  He chuckled a moment, grinning even wider at the growl she let loose at his choice of words.  “We can now add sole survivor to an attack by thresher maws on Akuze, where forty-nine good men and women died - one of them my brother.  What makes you so special, Shepard?  Why did you make it out virtually intact while the others found the settlement to house their graves instead?”

Chantalle found she could only grunt in response.  Whatever she’d been given hampered not just body movement but also rendered her unable to speak.

“Your spectacular show at the hospital played right into my hands.  Here I was, trying to figure out how to get to you, make you pay for my brother’s life, and then you go batshit crazy days prior to your release.  Luckily for the staff there, I’m a licensed psychiatrist and had the fortunate happenstance to be on the station when you tried to take down your entire medical team.”  His cackle sent shivers through her body, the anger she felt clearing up the haze enough to see the unbalanced light in Benson’s eyes.  As if to prove his point of her mental instability, the doctor’s omni-tool flared to life, showing her the entirety of her actions the night of her last memorable nightmare.

“I’m not stupid enough to leave you conscious for long periods of time, not while I’m still trying to decide what to do with you.  Killing you would let you off the hook a bit too easily, so you need not fear death at my hands.  I’ve entertained altering your psychiatric profile enough to at least get you a Cat-6 discharge, but if done wrong, you could end up back on the streets and living an otherwise ordinary life.  That wouldn’t do.  Not at all.”

She watched him as he began muttering to himself again, returning to the stack of datapads he had been poring over prior to approaching her.

“Hmm, what about keeping her in the state she’s already in?  Could always doctor…” the man trailed off, letting out a high pitched giggle that made her cringe inwardly, “doctor… _I’m_ a doctor!”  A snort followed the giggle before the man turned serious again.  It was enough to turn the blood in her veins to ice.  “Doctoring her file to the point where keeping her permanently locked up and in a catatonic state would do the trick.  Could always report that whenever it was attempted to bring her closer to consciousness, her PTSD reared its ugly little head, leaving her in an extremely unbalanced frame of mind with a very high probability of doing harm, more to others than to herself, though self mutilation would assist in that diagnosis as well.  Now to find voice files of Shepard to clone into a semblance of dialogue that would be believable to those who know her…”

Chantalle watched her former squadmate’s brother in horror as the man shuffled toward the door.  Gunnery Chief Nathaniel Benson had been a good friend, the two of them ribbing each other to the point the rest of their squad teased that they had been siblings in a previous life.  As she stared at his brother, snippets of conversation crept back to her.

_“Y’know, I love him to pieces, but my brother Harley is a bit of a nutter, to put it mildly.  Maybe that’s what makes him such a damned good psychiatrist,” Benson said to her one night, the two of them setting up for the crew’s weekly poker game._

_“What d’ya mean?” Chantalle asked._

_“The way he sees life and its patterns, it’s way different than how a normal person would see it.  It’s hard to explain.  Mom just liked to say he was too brilliant for his brain - and he is that.  Very intelligent.  Hell, I remember one time when I was six and he was four, he did a ‘mock couch session’ with me.  Ended up telling me that since I didn’t fit society’s norm in the way of looks that I might want to come up with some sort of gimmick to start off an attraction until a possible mate was willing to look past the mask and to the person beneath.  At that age it was nothing but mumbo jumbo to me and I shrugged it off, but now, twenty years later?  That little shit was right on the money.”_

“And here I almost forgot about the most important part of my plan!” Harley chirped into her ear, startling her.  So lost was she in her memories that Chantalle hadn’t noticed his approach.  “Goodnight _ma Belle_ ,” he giggled at his joke, using her middle name as an endearment that would’ve made her skin crawl if he hadn’t shot another dose of drugs into her system, knocking her out once again.

* * *

“Shepard?  Chantalle?” a soft female voice broke through the haze, as did whatever the drug was that flowed warmly through her system.  Blinking rapidly to bring the woman in front of her into focus, Chantalle levered her mossy green eyes onto the gentle grey ones that stared right back at her.  “Oh good, you’re awake.”

Chantalle lifted her head from the bed and studied the woman - possibly close to her own twenty-three years in age, straight chin length brown hair, and a cute pixie face.  “Who… who are you?”  Speaking was difficult.  It felt as if she had to fight for each word to come out of her mouth.

“My name’s Heather.  I am… was…” the woman stopped a moment, a soft sniffle accompanying a few tears that escaped the corners of her eyes, “Nate’s girlfriend.  Err Gunnery Chief Nathaniel Benson’s girlfriend, that is.”

Letting her head fall back with a thump onto the pillow, Chantalle sighed.  Someone else out to punish her, she supposed, for Benson’s death.  She needed to find a way out of this facility but being continuously drugged was making matters quite difficult.

“I’m sorry for what Harley is doing to you.  It’s not right.  Nate was just the only person in the family who ever treated him like a person instead of a freak because of his smarts, so I guess he cracked when we learned of his death.”

Chantalle returned her gaze to the woman standing next to her.  “So you’re not out to get me too?”

“No, not at all.  At first, with how much he talked about you, I used to get jealous.  It took me a while but I realized that he thought of you as his best friend, a sister.  Said he couldn’t wait to have the two of us meet - figured we’d get along great and do the ‘girly’ thing by talking shit about him behind his back.”

Chantalle let out a hoarse bark of laughter which was followed up by a spasm of coughing due to the dryness of her throat and her voice’s lack of use the past weeks.  Heather rushed over to the sink and came back with a small glass of water, helping the lieutenant ease her thirst and ridding her of the tickle in her throat.

“Okay, so why are you here?” Chantalle asked once she had taken a few sips of water.

“When I found out what Harley was doing, I asked to help.  Told him I wanted to get back at the bitch who killed my boyfriend.  He didn’t see any reason to deny my request and agreed.  In fact he was almost giddy at the thought of us both teaming up against you.  What he sees as my strength will end up being his weakness.  Due to my work as a medical aid at a psychiatric ward in Vancouver, I know more about the different drugs administered to patients, and how to neutralize them, than he does.”

“And that means what, exactly?”

“It means that I can help you.  In an hour or so the effects of what he gave you earlier will have worn off, leaving you completely clear headed.  Without his knowledge, the past few medication cycles I’ve been giving you nothing more than a placebo to clear out the toxins in your bloodstream and this last round was the neutralizer your system needed.  I’ve already loosened the restraints to the point you can get out of them, but not to where he’ll recognize the difference.”

“Why not just go to Alliance Command?  Let them know what was going on and where I am being held?”  Chantalle stared at the woman in front of her.

“I don’t have the clearance to talk to anyone that matters.  Each time I tried getting a hold of someone to tell them I had news of you, I was shut down.  The authorities here in Seattle wouldn’t listen because of what happened up on Arcturus so this was the only thing left I could think of doing to help you.  I know Nate gave his life to save yours.  I’m not going to let his brother take it from you out of some twisted form of revenge,” Heather answered, sighing.  “Look, I can’t stay here to chat any longer or else Harley will wonder what’s keeping me.  I left a small sack of clothing in the far right bottom cabinet and your omni-tool along with his medical files and recordings on you so you have proof of his instability.  It also has the codes to get out of this building and a map of the hospital’s layout.  Just so you know, you’re in the low security psych ward at the University of Washington Medical Center.”  Heather squeezed Chantalle’s hand then jogged out of the room, leaving the LT alone with her thoughts.

“Nate, you still looking out for me up there, buddy?”  Chantalle found herself fighting back tears as relief slammed into her.  She’d wanted out of this nightmare for however long Harley had been holding her hostage and due to the kindness of her friend’s girlfriend - guess he _had_ been telling the truth about her - there was light at the end of the tunnel.

With each quarter hour that passed, Shepard felt her strength returning and her biotics humming back to life.  Whether it was from some sadistic pleasure that he got out of it, or something beyond her comprehension, Chantalle also thanked the heavens for the times in which Benson’s brother would bring her just to the brink of full mental fuction to allow her to tend to her bodily needs before knocking her out again.  This meant there would be nothing to hamper her when the time came to make her escape.  Testing her bonds, she grinned when first one hand, then the other slipped out of their restraints, along with her feet.  Covering herself back up when she heard Harley’s footsteps approach the door, she feigned unconsciousness the moment the door opened.

“Well shit, looks like Heather hasn’t made it in here yet.  I so wanted to give you a shower today, m’dear.  Not that you’re dirty or anything of the sort - far from it, actually,” he leered at her, unaware of her staring at him through slitted eyes, “but once I send this little letter to the Alliance brass, I’m sure you’ll end up with visitors and it wouldn’t do for you to not look your squeaky best, would it?  I’ll have to get her in here to give you something to wake you up, it seems.”

“Actually, that won’t be necessary, Harley,” Chantalle quipped, swinging herself off the bed.  Stalking toward him, she recognized the moment he realized that she was fully awake and cognizant.  The fear in his eyes at the predatory look in hers had her grinning.  Pulling on the dark energy she was able to grasp, she lifted the man into the air and slammed him into a wall, holding him in place.

“You’re insane.  I get that.  You lost the only person in your life who treated you like a human being instead of some side-show whack job, and it hurts.  I get that too.  But did you ever stop to think that there was a reason your brother saved my life?”  She watched and saw Harley’s face twist in grief, heard the gasp when he learned the truth behind his brother’s death.  “Yeah, Nate’s the reason I’m alive.  He put himself in harm’s way to keep me safe.  Then again he knew damned well that I’d have done the same for him.  Those people who died were as much of a family to me as those that are ‘molding on the homestead’ as you put it.” 

Stepping closer, she bared her teeth at the doctor, keeping him tightly restrained with her biotics.  “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done here.  I’m not going to let you sully your brother’s name out of some fucked up need for revenge.”  With those last words, Chantalle  knocked him out with a biotic punch to the jaw then lifted him over to the bed she’d been restrained to.  Making sure the wrist and ankle cuffs were tight, she grabbed the sack Heather had left for her, hit the showers for a quick scrub down - she’d take a longer one later once she had the luxury - then threw the BDU style cargo pants on along with the black hoodie and laced up the boots.  Fastening the omni-tool to her wrist, she fried the door lock on her former cell the moment she left.  Thanks to Heather’s help, she was able to leave the facility with no one the wiser to her escape.

* * *

Fingers flying over her omni-tool, Chantalle was confident that there had been nothing more than the files Heather had uploaded added to it.  Due to her sentinel classification, she was a top notch hacker, and even took the time out while searching for trackers or other bugs to remove some blocks so she could overclock her ‘tool if she ever needed to.

Curled up in a corner booth at the back of a small, dimly lit café, she sipped from a steaming mug of the establishment’s advertised specialty hot chocolate.  She had no idea what they had done to the drink, but it floated on her tongue like a fluffy chocolate mousse and slid down as if it were the sweetest cream, warming her insides.  Checking the time, Chantalle sighed.  If she were to try and ping Hackett or Anderson now, the chances of them being available to talk were slim.  It was the height of their work day while, in her neck of the woods, most people were sound asleep in their beds.  Just as she was about to send a chat request, the vid screen above her head caught her attention when her academy graduation photo flashed in front of her eyes.

“ _Breaking news.  Lt. Chantalle Shepard of the Alliance has escaped the low security psych ward of the University of Washington Medical Facility in Seattle.  While unsure of the nature of the attack against her psychiatrist, Dr. Harley Benson, as he is still unconscious at this time, consider Lt. Shepard to be armed and highly dangerous.  Do not approach or attempt to apprehend but contact your local authorities instead.”_

Well damn.  While she was glad she’d had the foresight to leave Seattle a few hours prior, hopping a shuttle to some out of the way small town just outside of Portland, she still felt too close, too exposed.  And, while she’d been a few years younger in that photo than she was now, she hadn’t aged much, so she was sure her face would be highly recognizable.  Pulling the hood of the sweatshirt over her head and slinking further down into the seat, Chantalle figured that now would be the perfect time to try and contact her men.  If she waited, her chances of being caught skyrocketed.

_Chat request sent._

_D. A.  Lacey, if that’s you, you’d damn well better have a good explanation of what’s going on._

_C. S.  Don’t start.  You have **no** idea of what I’ve been through the past month._

_S. H.  Talk to us.  What’s going on?_

_C. S.  I just saw the news report.  I can’t afford to get caught.  I’m not going back to that crazy doctor._

_D. A.  Psychiatrists are there to help you, sweetheart.  I don’t know what happened up here but if you need the help…_

_S. H.  Let her talk, David._

_C. S.  I’m not going to talk about it.  Not here.  I need to get underground now that the authorities are looking for me.  Damnit, I don’t know the area.  I don’t know where to go._

_D. A.  I can’t help unless I know what’s going on.  I’m not trying to be a hard ass, but I have to think of what the possible implications are if shit’s as bad as it seems._

_S. H.  Where are you?  Depending on the location I might be able to help you navigate the area.  
_

_C. S.  Some small town near Portland.  After the shit I dealt with in Seattle, I just couldn't stay there...  
_

_S. H.  Lacey, it might actually be best to find a way to Portland.  A bigger city means more hiding places.  Sending a nav point to your omni-tool.  Even if David can’t, or won’t come help, meet me there.  I’ll see what I can do._

_C. S.  Understood.  Lacey out._

_User has disconnected from chat._

_S. H.  What the fuck, David?  That’s your little girl down there._

_D. A.  Not so little anymore, Steven.  And we don’t even know what happened up here on Arcturus, only supposition.  The brass has been incredibly close-mouthed on the whole situation.  They wouldn’t even confirm or deny what you’d heard.  If it’s something really bad, then we need to get her help, not help her evade the authorities._

_S. H.  Sit on your ass then and do nothing if you’re so afraid of how it might make you look.  I’m heading down there to take care of her.  Hackett out._

_User has disconnected from chat._

_D. A.  Son of a bitch…_

_User has disconnected from chat._

* * *

Chantalle kept to the shadows near the corner pub that Hackett had sent her to, tugging the hood of the sweatshirt over her head to help her blend into the shadows.  She was so tired, her body not having had any real sleep since before Akuze.  She didn’t count drug induced stupors to be true sleep.  That and she was hungry.  She knew she’d lost weight.  Harley hadn’t fed her enough - either due to a lack of knowledge of biotics and their need for increased caloric intake compared to the normal masses, or hoping that if he kept down her intake, her biotics would be less of an issue.  Being on the run didn’t help either since she didn’t dare use her credit chits anywhere that could track her movements.

“Lacey, _querida_ , are you there?” Hackett’s voice whispered around her hiding place.  Glancing around to make sure there was no one else following him, that the Rear Admiral was by himself, she stepped out of her hidey hole and closer to the streetlamp so he could see her.

“I’m here,” she answered, hugging her arms tightly around her waist, while shivering from both the cool evening breeze and the nerves that rocketed through her system.  “You alone?”

Turning his head in the direction of Chantalle’s voice, Hackett spied her thin form a few feet away from him. “David is still on Arcturus, if that’s what you’re asking.  The _Tokyo_ will be pulling out of port in two days.”  He saw the hurt his words caused flash through her mossy green eyes and his heart went out to her.  Damnit, Anderson should’ve been here as well, but one of them was better than neither, he supposed.

Taking a few steps towards Hackett, Chantalle wasn’t sure whether to throw her arms around him or maintain a professional distance as her guardian had chosen to do by not coming down to Earth.  Her indecision came to a halt when she felt Hackett’s arms close around her and she fell into his embrace, her tears immediately soaking the shoulder of the soft sweater beneath her cheek.

“Damn, girl, you’re nothing but skin and bones,” he whispered in her ear.  The concern she heard, the shock she felt at his realization, broke what little of the dam that was left, her sobs wracking her entire frame.  Within moments she felt weightless - he had picked her up as if she weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes.  Traveling through back alleys, the Rear Admiral brought her back to his skycar.  Once the worst of the storm had passed, he set her down into the passenger seat, his touch gentle as his thumbs brushed away the tears.  She stared at him, something passing between the two of them - what she wasn’t sure of, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it - then closed her eyes and curled up on the seat, letting him buckle her in.

“Where’re we going?” she mumbled once the car took to the air.

“I have a little cabin in the wilds of western Montana.  It’s isolated - the nearest town is an hour away.  That should keep you out of anyone’s eyesight until we get this mess sorted out and you back on your feet,” Hackett answered.

“Thank you.”

“I keep telling you that I’ll always be there for you.  Now is no different, even if others believe otherwise.  Once we get you settled in and fed you can talk to me about this whole shit storm.  Until then, just rest.”

His words were answered by a soft snore in the seat beside him.  A cross between a sigh and a chuckle escaped Hackett’s lips and he pulled over long enough to grab a blanket from the back seat to tuck around Shepard’s sleeping form. 

Next stop, Montana and some answers.


	5. The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hackett learns what really happened in Seattle and how bad her nightmares truly are.

Snuggling deeper into the blanket as a cool breeze wafted over her skin, Chantalle cracked her eyes open a bit when she felt someone tucking the soft material closer around her.  She found herself mesmerized by the way the sunlight played off of Hackett’s deep chestnut brown hair, highlighting the little bits of red, and the distinguished air the silvering of his temples added to the whole package.

“Looks like Sleeping Beauty has finally rejoined the land of the living,” the man beside her chuckled.

“Mmm.  First time in I dunno how long I’ve actually slept.  Have we arrived at your little hidey-hole?”  Chantalle asked.

“Still have about an hour left to go.  Decided to make a quick stop to pick up some basic necessities, including food.  If I’m going to be feeding a biotic, figured I should keep my cupboards stocked.”  Chantalle couldn’t keep the smile off her face at his soft laugh.  She watched as Hackett powered up the skycar, his movements sure and steady.  Soon her gaze was directed to the beauty of the mountains that surrounded them and the glimpses she was able to get of the lakes beneath.

“How are you feeling, Lacey?”  The note of concern in his voice had her turning her head toward him, away from the scenery below.

“Better than I was twenty-four hours ago but not as good as I’d like,” she answered, sighing.

“Anything you’d like to share?”

“Since you’re driving, it might be safest if I wait until we’ve arrived at where ever you’re taking me.”

“That bad?” he asked.

“Worse, probably.  How much longer?”

“We’re almost there.  You spent most of the drive staring out the window.”

Chantalle felt the nerves begin to flutter in her stomach, knowing that the moment of truth was fast approaching.  She only hoped that once she had divulged everything to Steven, he’d still be in her corner and not in a hurry to shove her off to some shrink like Anderson had seemed to want to do.  Closing her eyes, she burrowed deeper beneath the blanket.

“And here we are,” Hackett’s voice invaded the silence a few minutes later.  Chantalle opened her eyes, their green orbs widening as she took in the two story log cabin and the way the sunlight sparkled with warm invitation on the windows.  It looked downright cozy.  Untucking the blanket from around her, she stretched her 5’8” form to its full height as she stepped from the vehicle, and found herself wandering slowly up the stairs and around the wraparound porch to the deck in the back.  The gentle slope of the tree line flowed downward from the deck toward a clearing with a smallish pond.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”  Hackett’s voice startled her.  She realized, after a moment, that the sun had started to sink beneath the trees, casting the area with a soothing orange and purple hue.

“How long have I been standing out here?”

“A good half hour or so.  Gave me time to get everything unloaded from the car and start on supper,” he answered.

“You should have called me.  I would have helped.”

“No, Lacey, you’re a guest in my home - here to relax, not work.”  He smiled at her, earning a nervous one in response.

“Come on, let’s go inside.  It can get a bit chilly up here, even in the middle of summer, especially when the sun goes down.”

“Yeah…” she sighed, Steven following her in.  She wasn’t looking forward to the ensuing conversation in regards to her reasons behind fleeing Seattle.  Stumbling over the threshold as she stepped inside, Chantalle felt Hackett’s hand on the small of her back, supporting her, his other hand on her shoulder.  On one hand, his warmth behind her calmed her down, but on the other, it heightened her nerves.

“Would you prefer to wait until after we eat to talk?” he asked, directing her to one of the chocolate leather sofas that framed the dark grey stonework fireplace.  “Dinner is in the oven and won’t be ready for another hour.”

“Either it’ll kill your appetite before hand, or make you wish you hadn’t eaten.  Best to not waste any food and refrigerate it if it ruins your appetite so I’d rather just get it over with,” she answered, curling into a tight ball at the end of the couch, hugging her knees to her chest.  “How much do you know of what happened before I was shipped off of Arcturus?”

Chantalle turned to watch Hackett as he took a seat beside her, tucking a leg up beneath him as the other rested on the floor, an arm draped over the back of the sofa.  She found herself momentarily distracted by the way his jeans molded his muscular thighs and the way the sweater stretched over what had felt, when she hugged him earlier, like a well toned chest.

“Not much.  We’d heard rumors but no one would give us a straight answer.  Neither Anderson nor I could get any of the brass to tell us what had happened and the medical staff had gone into hiding.”

Nodding, she sighed and rested her forehead on her knees.

“During the worst of my recovery, the docs had me on the maximum dose of pain blockers at night, knocking me completely out, so I could sleep without pain creeping in.  It was like being unconscious.  I had no dreams, no nightmares.  During the week leading up to my discharge, we had all agreed to start weaning me off of the hard stuff so I’d get a more natural rest and would be less dependent on them once I was on my own.”

“Makes sense,” Steven murmured.

“The first couple of nights weren’t too bad.  I had bits and pieces of nightmares filter through but nothing tangible to snatch up that would disturb my sleep.  The drugs were still too heavy.  The next night, though…” she shivered, hands clenching.  “The blockers were light enough that I was able to dream again.  I remember it so clearly.  It was the perfect mash-up of Mindoir and Akuze - batarians separating the squad into two groups, one to use as slaves, the other to use as bait for the thresher maws so they could leave with their prize and not become fodder themselves.  It wasn’t until I was being knocked out that I realized it was a nightmare, but the blockers were too strong for me to pull out of it on my own.  I fried the equipment, busted some guy’s nose, and threw someone across the room.”

“So the rumors were true…”

“Not one of my finer moments, that’s for sure.”

Warmth surrounded one of her hands and she raised her head to see Steven holding it between his.

“You’ve been through so much, _querida_ , is it any wonder you were having nightmares?”

She shrugged even as she gripped onto the hand beneath hers as if it were a lifeline.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if the psychiatrist who had just arrived on the station and offered up his services hadn’t been related to one of my squad mates.  Dr. Harley Benson, brother to Gunnery Chief Nathaniel Benson.  I guess Nate’s death snapped what little sanity he had and he blamed me for his brother’s death.  I spent this last month as a guest of his while he ran tests on me, brought me right to the edge of full consciousness only to knock me out again… he toyed with me…” she stopped for a moment, clenching her eyes tight. 

“Did he… ?”  Hackett trailed off and she could hear an audible swallow come from the man.

“According to his logs, he was tempted, but didn’t.  It would have broken the doctor/patient code.  Thank God for _some_ small miracles.  His whole purpose behind my abduction was to find a way to make me pay for the loss of the one person who kept him sane.”

“Lacey, do you have any proof?  If you do, I can take this to the brass and have you cleared of all charges.  They’ll probably want a psych eval before they release you to active duty, but you’ll be free of any legal action.”

Releasing Steven’s hand, she brought up her omni-tool, fingers flying over the orange interface, and sent him the entire folder of audio files and medical records that the psychiatrist had been in the process of doctoring.

“You might also want to see if you can find someone named Heather - never did catch her last name - but she was Nate’s girlfriend.  Works for some psych unit in Vancouver.  She’s the reason I’m free.  She told me she tried to contact the Alliance about what was going on and when that didn’t work, she got Harley to agree to let her in on his team so she could get near me and help me escape.  Should be some record somewhere of her calls or emails.”

“That should be easy enough to do,” Hackett replied.  The somber mood was lifted a bit when Chantalle’s stomach chose that moment to growl.  Her lips quirked into a semblance of a grin which was answered by a chuckle from Steven.

“Okay, I admit, seeing that you’re not about to toss me into the nearest loony bin after hearing this lifted a bit of the weight off my shoulders and I’m hungry.  What’s for dinner?”

“Your favorite.  Baked macaroni and cheese, made with extra cheese and bits of chorizo.”  Chantalle looked up at him as he stood and walked over to her, reaching a hand out for her to grab.  “And if you think I would have you committed over things beyond your control, you let your fear overrule that part of your brain that knows me better than that.”

“True enough.”  She smiled and reached out to take his hand, letting him pull her up and guide her toward the kitchen.

* * *

Steven found himself thoroughly disgusted at the files he was browsing through.  If only he’d listened to his instincts and found a way around his superiors to learn the truth, then maybe Lacey wouldn’t have been forced to endure such hell the past month.  Whoever this Heather was, he owed her for getting his girl out from under Harley’s nose.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath and was about to hit play on the last audio file, dated a few days prior to Shepard’s escape, when his omni-tool pinged.

_D. A.  I owe Lacey a huge apology, don’t I?_

_S. H.  To put it mildly, yes._

_D. A.  I can’t believe the shit I’m reading in these files.  It’s disgusting.  This Harley… he didn’t… not with our Lacey… did he?  I can’t even say it._

_S. H.  I asked  and she said no.  If he had, well let’s just say I’d already be on my way to Seattle._

_D. A.  Thank God. How’s she doing?_

_S. H.  She’s exhausted and scared.  Bastard barely fed her either - well at least not enough for a biotic’s metabolism.  She’s lost a lot of weight._

_D. A.  Damn.  Anything I can do to help?_

_S. H.  Don’t you have a meeting with the Fleet Admiral before the Tokyo pulls out of port?_

_D. A.  Yeah.  Still trying to figure out why he wants to talk to me._

_S. H.  Take the files to him.  I’m sure, once he goes over them, we can get Lacey off the hook for knocking that bastard out in Seattle and off the radar where the authorities are concerned.  She'll still need to submit to a psych eval by an Alliance approved psychiatrist, but at least she won't have to worry about criminal charges on top of that.  
_

_D. A.  Can do.  I’m… sorry… for not sticking up for her, if it’s any consolation._

_S. H.  That’s something you need to take up with her, not me.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try and get some sleep._

_User has disconnected from chat._

* * *

Steven shot up from his bed and grabbed the pistol he kept in the nightstand the moment he heard Lacey scream.  Taking just enough time to toss on a pair of sweatpants, he left the room, not bothering with a shirt or slippers.  Silent as a wraith, he crept along the darkened hall.  Allowing the full moon to guide him, he peered around the corner into her room and let out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding.  While nightmares were bad enough after what she’d been through, he’d rather that than to find an intruder.  Setting the gun inside the nightstand next to her bed, Hackett reached down and touched her shoulder gently.

“Lacey, wake up.  You’re safe, _mija_ , you’re safe.”

Her green eyes looked at him blankly, no recognition in them.  He found himself enveloped by dark energy and lifted up until he dangled about a foot from the braided rug.

“Lacey, it’s Steven.  Let me go, please.  No one will hurt you here.”

He was answered by a ball of energy hitting his chest, tossing him out into the hallway.

“Shit,” he sighed, picking himself up and dusting off his backside before re-entering the room.  Stalking over to her bed, he grabbed both her wrists and pinned them above her head, using his weight to hold her down until he could get through to her.  He was afraid she’d end up hurting either herself or him and he wasn’t going to take any chances.

* * *

“Lacey!  Chantalle, calm down.  I’m not going to hurt you!”

Something hard and heavy was pinning her to the ground.  With her wrists held down, she couldn’t use her biotics nor reach her omni-tool.  Damnit.  She couldn’t even get a good look to see if it was human or batarian, only knew that they were quite adept at evading her legs each time she tried to reach a soft spot to disarm whoever held her captive.

“ _Lacey!_ ”

Steven?  Was he here to save her from her unknown assailant?  Chantalle opened her dream gaze and found herself coming to, Steven’s face just inches from her own and bathed in moonlight from the window next to her bed.  It was at that moment that both of them seemed to realize that another part of her ‘captor’, so to speak, was also quite awake.  The silence between them grew, and as awkward as the situation was, neither of them seemed willing to break off their gaze from the other.

He actually felt… good… right there.  If she were completely honest with herself, Steven felt incredible against her, and it took everything she had not to grind up against him.  As irony seemed to be her middle name, Chantalle’s leg chose that moment to cramp up and she shifted, trying to readjust, which brought her pelvis into closer contact.  Steven’s groan tickled her ear as he buried his face into her pillow, right next to her head.

“God, Lacey, I’m so sorry, but damnit, don’t move.  Not for a few minutes at least.”  The lower octave his voice had dropped to, with the sleepy gravel added to it, sent shivers through her.  The moment he released his hold of her, she couldn’t help it - her arms wrapped around him and held him tight.  She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.  He smelled so good - like the woods that surrounded his cabin.  Chantalle found herself not only aroused, but also relaxed.

“I should go…” Steven croaked in her ear.

“No, please stay,” Chantalle found herself pinned back to the bed again, though this time by the weight of his blue eyed gaze.

“Lacey, don’t ask this of me.  After what you’ve dealt with… I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Not… not for that.  I just…” she sighed, her eyes closing, and turned her head to the side, the sheen of the skin graft on the back of her neck highlighted by the moon.  “I know what I look like after the attack on Akuze.  I know I’m carrying enough baggage to weigh down a dreadnaught as well.  It doesn’t exactly make me a likely candidate for any man’s affections.  And while I won’t lie and pretend I’m not attracted to you, you’re also safety to me.  You were right beside me as I slept in the car.  Maybe having you right here will let me sleep again…”

She felt the gentle grip of Hackett’s fingers as they took hold of her chin and turned her face back towards his.

“Lacey, open your eyes please.”

She did as she was asked, only to see his gaze lock on hers, blue overlayed with a suspicious sheen, as his lips descended to caress her own.  The gentleness of his touch brought tears to her own eyes, tears that were quickly wiped away by the brush of his thumbs.

“Don’t ever doubt how beautiful you are.  Scars could never mar your intelligence, strength, compassion, nor your smile or the sparkle in your eyes when you’re happy.  I’ll stay if you want me to.”

Chantalle couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat, only nod, and scooted over to give Hackett room to crawl beneath the sheets with her.  Once he lay beside her, she curled up against his side and closed her eyes, dropping off into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, a huge thank you to nortonn7 for acting as my beta! She's kickass!
> 
> Also wanted to thank all of you who have enjoyed the story so far and left comments and kudos on my work. You're awesome!
> 
> One last thing - if anyone is curious about the cabin, feel free to take a look at my Pinterest gallery for Dress Blues. It has some shots in there that I found which matched my imagination almost perfectly. http://www.pinterest.com/dragonwyrd316/dress-blues/


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